


The show goes on

by black_cottoncandy



Category: Take That (Band)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Best Friends, Blow Jobs, Break Up, First Time, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Hand Jobs, M/M, Post-Break Up, Smut, idk why it turned out like this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-19
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:14:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28169841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/black_cottoncandy/pseuds/black_cottoncandy
Summary: “Are you still in touch with Mark Owen?”“Do you miss Robbie Williams sometimes?”
Relationships: Mark Owen/Robbie Williams
Kudos: 5





	The show goes on

**Author's Note:**

> everything i write turns always out lightly angst, i can't help it  
> P.S. English is not my first language, so if you notice mistakes, please let me know

_“Are you still in touch with Mark Owen?”_

_“Do you miss Robbie Williams sometimes?”_

They were always asked about each other in interviews. During the years in the band, and also - and mostly – after they split up. When they were about to sit in a tv studio, or talk to reporters outside the hotel they were staying in, or listening to fans’ questions that presenters had chosen for them; they already knew that those words were meant to come up eventually. Maybe everyone was just nosy and curious, they wanted a headline for their magazines and that was the easiest way to sell copies, or perhaps they were genuinely worried, about their friendship, their relationship, their _whatever it had become._

No matter what was the reason though, because the reaction caused was always the same. And it had to be covered up. Little Mark had always been the smiley boy, a frown would’ve not looked good on his face. He was meant to look back at the good memories and talk about them in the most light-hearted way possible, sharing anecdotes that showed how he could love literally everybody even after many years. And Rob on the other hand, he was on top of the world. Thinking about the past and stopping to recollect thoughts wasn’t what everyone - sometimes even himself - expected from someone who’s racing at 130 mph.

The years of the band were way over by then. But the sense of duty that forced them to play a character was still with them. Years and years of training, of filtered reactions, of controlling every flinch on their faces, of staying on the spot designed especially for them, not being able to move anywhere because their _role_ was strict, and it didn’t allow alterations. Everyone had a script and, whether they liked it or not, when any camera was on they had to follow it. So they were, after what felt like the end and the beginning of a new era, still dragging along what the superstar-training had taught them.

_“Are you still in touch with Mark Owen?”_

_“Do you miss Robbie Williams sometimes?”_

Their faces don’t show a sign of emotion. Their voices don’t shake. Their palms don’t sweat. But if the spotlight could stop and pay attention to their eyes, they could see how they betray them. Just a little sparkle, and in a split second everything comes back to their minds, it’s hard for them not to get overwhelmed: two men - or maybe still boys - miles apart from each other, in two different surroundings, still connected by all they shared.

Rob can still feel the gaze of adoration that Mark had when he looked at him. And Mark can still feel the tender touches of Robbie’s arms spontaneously hugging him. They can still hear their laughs filling the room, and their lungs asking for air when they weren’t even able to stop rolling on the floor. They still feel goosebumps rising on their skin when the first rumble of the audience echoed in the arenas, and they still remember the looks they exchanged, meaning “ _I’ve got you, we’ll ace it_ ”. They can hear their slurred and nonsense words when they had a few too many, and their banging headaches in the morning, eased only by the thought of facing the day together. They still see their messy rooms in front of them, and they still remember the easiness and the freedom of being around each other, just the two of them, the feeling of letting go of everything bad. Mark remembers Rob’s stupid hats and how he insisted so much on wearing them, ‘cause he thought they looked cool. And Robbie remembers Mark’s huge jumpers and sweatshirts, and how he used to hide his tiny hands in those long sleeves. Nevertheless, they remember how easy was for Robbie to reach Mark’s hand anyway, and intertwine it with his own like it was the most natural thing in the world. They can feel their lips brush against each other’s for the first time, and they remember thinking how easy that was, and asking themselves why the hell they hadn’t done that before. They still sense the touches on their skin, their tongues brushing against each other’s, their hands traveling on their bodies, just discovering them but feeling like they’ve always known where to place themselves. They still hear the giggles, the snorts, because they were having fun really, and then they hear their whimpers, their whines, because it was much more than only fun. They can remember how needy they both were, but never rushing despite the pulses of their teenage years. Mark still hears Rob’s deep and husky voice, still feels his lips everywhere, still senses his strong grip through his hair and his whispered “ _Markie_ ”s ,urging him to go deeper while he has his cock in his mouth, sucking, licking, knowing his sweet spots. And Rob still sees Mark’s big eyes looking up at him, still hears Mark’s soft voice crack into moans, as he strokes his dick and fondles his balls, and he still watches his little hands gripping the sheets and leaving bruises on his back. Robbie remembers how hot and tight Mark was around him, and Mark remembers how shamelessly full he felt every time Rob was pounding into him. They both still hear the bed frame cracking, interrupted only by their _God-yes-fuck-more_ ’s. They both still feel the struggle of wanting it faster, deeper, rougher but, despite that, they still want to make it last forever, because it feels too good to end. Mark still feels Rob pulsing against his walls, and still twitches in anticipation. Robbie still sees himself kissing Mark desperately, almost on the edge, and still feels the hotness of his lover’s cock as he strokes it. Mark still remembers how it felt to come on Rob’s dick and in his hand, and Robbie still recalls spilling into him, both shaking and trembling. They still hear the laughs filling the silence after the first times, and then they hear the small, chaste and loving kisses after they got used to it. They still feel the shivers of cold as they stand there on the bed in each other’s embrace, and they still remember how they didn’t bother to cover up themselves anyway. Mark still drowns in Rob’s deep eyes watching him with love, only closing his own while he feels a hand through his hair, caressing him gently; and Robbie still feels Mark’s delicate thumb brushing against his cheek, his forehead, cupping his face before giving in for a kiss. They remember the happy times, the sad times, the angry times. They remember staying in each other’s arms after jumping around and celebrating their first number one in the charts, after they both got shouted at because of all the noise they were making in the hotel, after a long ride in their crappy van, a night out in the club, the last show of a tour. Mark still watches Robbie’s eyes looking down and his fists clenching while hearing what Nigel had to say about him. They still listen to the sounds of the shouts, the doors slamming and the angry footsteps walking away. Mark still remembers waking up in the middle of the night hearing Rob throwing up in the next room. Robbie still watches Mark’s eyes grow distant and his embrace become weaker. They remember the tears, the absence, and then more tears.

_“Are you still in touch with Mark Owen?”_

_“Do you miss Robbie Williams sometimes?”_

The question echoes in their mind one last time before they come up with an answer. The show goes on.


End file.
